Cutlery Drawer (4:20)

Capa de It's Not Something But It Is Like Whatever

De It's Not Something But It Is Like Whatever e 1 outro álbum

Você tem alguma informação a respeito desta faixa?
Ajude a construir a, adicionando as informações à página wiki referente a esta faixa.


Tags de todos os usuários

Mais tags

Executar com Spotify

Este vídeo não combina com esta faixa? Sugira um vídeo melhor

Sinalizar vídeo

Álbuns que contêm esta faixa (2)

Tendência musical

9.654ouvintes no total
41.980scrobbles acumulados
Tendência de ouvintes recentes:

Explore mais

Caixa de mensagens

Deixe um comentário. Faça login na ou registre-se.
  • Apofiz

    i love her voice haha

    24 Jun 2011 Responder
  • MarcPandaBear

    the voice brings back some memories, catchy tune

    9 Mar 2011 Responder
  • OwenAutumnFall

    I can't stand Pringle. Seen her live and she bored me to tears - I pretty much had to delete this track because she's ruined it for me with her posh spoilt Oxford girl accent

    11 Abr 2010 Responder
  • PaulLambeth

    As soon as I listened to this song I knew the voice and checked this page. Awesome.

    25 Fev 2010 Responder
  • ThisisKingDave

    I think this is one of George Pringle's best. I love listening to this on my phone whilst out walking through the snow.

    11 Jan 2010 Responder
  • whatwillburn

    .... and unusually lucid for ms pringle, her lyrics are usually crap

    10 Abr 2009 Responder
  • whatwillburn

    Yes!!! the spirit of MBICR lives on.....

    10 Abr 2009 Responder
  • sirdirk

    Cutlery Drawer She walked to the top of the park and looked down. "I am Princess and this is my kingdom. I am Princess and this is my crown" she thought, staring at the cars glistening over speed-bumps below, grey clouds mottled, hanging low over the roof-tops. Sitting on the bench she had to pull her jacket tight. Summer was gone. The tree stump where she had sat the Spring before had grown moss, so she lay in the grass. She hoped if she lay there long enough then someone would find her. After about an hour nobody came so she stood up and walked the long way home down Morrell Avenue. When she got indoors it started to rain.

    11 Fev 2009 Responder
  • sirdirk

    She was thinking about the party she was at the night before. Someone there had said that there were some people upstairs lying in a line on the floor in the dark. They were high. She said: "Like who?" They said: "Like, everyone." She assumed that by this they meant anyone who was cool. Well, the thing was, they were on uppers and she really couldn't think of a worse combination. People in Oxford didn't know how to do drugs. So she went into the kitchen.

    11 Fev 2009 Responder
  • sirdirk

    The guy she had come to the party with was ignoring her because this other girl he liked was there. "He loves her." she thought. What's worse was she didn't really care. Perched by the microwave, smoke from her cigarette got up her nose. These two girls had been giving her uglies all night. Perhaps it's because she hadn't bothered enough with her clothes, she thought, looking at her plimsolls and fading tan. Summer was gone. One of the girls was looking at her pierced to poise, all porcelain, her face like second-rate lead paint and cold cat eyes, synched belt like upholstery 'round her thick waist, dark lips shining red like a place the sun can't.

    11 Fev 2009 Responder
  • sirdirk

    She stared blankly back and got up, went upstairs, walked into a room. It was a boy's room, she could tell. A Stale taste of nicotine and Special Brew. She looked at the coppers on the top of the book case and his DVDs: Amelie, La Haine, Way of The Dragon, Die Hard. There was a Radiohead poster on the wall, a keyboard in the corner, neatly stacked CDs and a PC, tobacco coloured curtains, a window half-open breathing out over the backyards and skips.

    11 Fev 2009 Responder
  • sirdirk

    She felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned 'round. What seemed like an hour had passed as he continued to thrust himself into her, her knickers pinching her thighs, jagged hip bones, summer holidays holding all Sepia in the back seat of her brain. She waited until it was over. He got up, buckled up. She had stared at his face in the dark. His glassy eyeballs caught the light from beyond the window. She thought of how romantic this could have been. She imagined him stroking her face but he was gone. She lay staring at the ceiling. A car stalled on the street below and someone was calling a name but it fractured in the night air, the different syllables colliding. It wasn't hers, she had thought She lay there trying to figure out the tune on the stereo. From downstairs she could hear a bass-line. A slow, heavy beat. One, two, three. Wake up.

    11 Fev 2009 Responder
  • NotOverYet_

    christ this is so good

    12 Jan 2009 Responder
  • mat35

    I bought the promo... Unfortunately no credits. Sounds an awful lot like mbirc, not that's a bad thing, I always felt they could've still released another album or two for my liking.

    30 Dez 2008 Responder
  • pecusita

    this is very interesting storytelling, makes you wanna follow along and not skip it at all. I love how the music compliments the unexpectedly anxious quality in the voice over.

    6 Dez 2008 Responder
  • joe_fishfish

    as if anyone actually buys albums anymore :D

    31 Out 2008 Responder
  • jonaschrist

    It does say George Pringle in the album booklet if anyone could be arsed to look at it.

    24 Out 2008 Responder
  • hitchcockm00

    aha, found it! The person's called Georgina Pringle.

    4 Ago 2008 Responder
  • hitchcockm00

    Think I typed some of the lyrics into google and found the person's myspace. Can't remember who it was or how I found the page now though. It definitely wasn't the Meanwhile Back In Communist Russia woman though.

    4 Ago 2008 Responder
  • year2000ready

    @hitchcockm00: i had the same thought. why are you sure it's not her?

    24 Jul 2008 Responder
  • Todas as 27 mensagens

Principais ouvintes